White Christmas
by SketchpadSinger
Summary: Oneshot. UsUk in the holiday season; fluff ensues. Warnings for bad cooking and dorks. First story, be gentle.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

Mid-December. The snow was settling quietly onto the streets of Manhattan, only to be crunched into the shape of footsteps by busy pedestrians.

Mid-December. It'd be Christmas soon, and the city seems busier than ever. Families going shopping, young lovers ice skating together, and lights decorating the already-bright city.

Mid-December, and Alfred F Jones was once again feeling a warmth in the pit of his stomach growing. He watched the snow drift past his view from inside his home, mesmerized by the yellow glow stained onto the flakes from the street lamps.

All was quiet, save for the clanging in his kitchen.

Ah, yes, Alfred remembered, Arthur had said he wanted to make sugar cookies ("biscuits," he called them). A few curse words here and there, a couple clicks as the oven was set to the correct (he hoped) degree of heat to adequately bake the cookies. Tearing his eyes from the picturesque scene before him, the sunny blond turned and smiled at his lover, now standing in the living room with him.

"All done in there?" he asked, adjusting his glasses and focusing his eyes on the other man. Alfred had to admit, Arthur looked pretty adorable in his oversized Christmas sweater and slacks. His green eyes were filled with pride as he gave a grin and a nod.

"Mmhm. They're baking right now. I do hope they come out nicely, I think I put all the right amounts in." Arthur walked over to his boyfriend and sat next to him. "The snow became much heavier since last I checked," he mused, turning his face toward the window.

Alfred nodded, a smile working its way onto his face. He slipped his hand into the Brit's, large, calloused fingers fitting perfectly with their smaller, but no less work-worn partners.

"I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas..." he sang quietly. Arthur chuckled and pushed him playfully.

"Now stop that, we've still got a whole week before Christmas, idiot." Arthur's smile remained, but a sigh escaped his lips. "Though, I suppose, it's quite beautiful. A white Christmas would be a great gift indeed." A comforting silence fell over the two as they watched the never-ending snow make its descent. However, Alfred smelled the problem first.

"Babe, you set the oven to 350 degrees, right?"

"No, I set it to 445. Why?"

"The cookies-" Alfred was cut off by the smoke detector. Arthur jumped up at once, running to the kitchen to put out the burning sweets. Alfred opened the door, letting the cold in, but the dark smoke out. As the air steadily cleared, Alfred found himself with a new idea. He left the door open and made his way to the closet in the hall, finding a hat, scarf, and gloves. He slipped the snow gear on, grabbing his ever-present bomber jacket on his way out the door.

The snow had piled up to about four inches by now. It squished under Alfred's heavy footsteps as he trudged into the yard. The nippy air bit his nose, even though the scarf piled up to cover the lower half of his face.

He turned his head upward, watching as the snow flew around him.

It seemed like hours had passed, watching the snow. In reality, however, it was about ten minutes. The eery, yet calming silence was broken when a familiar accent called out to the American.

"Alfred?" He blinked, moving to look at the figure in the dancing lights of the porch. Arthur pulled his sweater closer to him and shivered, stepping out onto the thick blanket of powdered snow. Alfred stood, watching him come nearer until they were inches apart. Arthur examined him, touching a relatively warm hand to the other's cheek.

"You'll freeze out here, git." There was no bite in Arthur's words. "Come on inside."

Alfred blinked. "I like it out here."

"You'll catch cold! Now come in, I'll make some tea-"

Arthur wasn't given the chance to finish. A pair of soft, but cold lips were now pressing against his own in a familiar dance. The two simply stood in the snow, kissing and shivering all the same. The cold was what finally tore them apart.

Alfred grinned, his blue eys sparkling behind his glasses. He took Arthur's hands into his own gloved ones, pulling him to the door.

"What was that about making tea?"

Aaaaaand there's my try at writing a cute oneshot. I was thinking about snow, and this happened...Anyway! Whatcha guys think? ;u;


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